


We carved our names into the apple tree

by QuietlyPondering



Category: Sander Sides
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Oneshot, Open to Interpretation, Possible tw suicide, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 17:28:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14169906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuietlyPondering/pseuds/QuietlyPondering
Summary: He remembered once, by the tree, when he carved their names inside a childish heart. He promised marriage in the way children do.





	We carved our names into the apple tree

**Author's Note:**

> First fic of the fandom! Hope you enjoy ^^

They kissed once under the apple tree. It was their apple tree - in a sea of thousands. It was theirs because at the bottom were two names that had been messily carved into it years before. Back then, the world was so much simpler. An apple was just an apple, and a kiss was simply just a kiss.

They were thirteen. Young and happy and free and the sun would set far to soon on their quiet afternoons spent with sticky fingers and stifled laughter. He would never forget - basked in the setting sun, it enveloped Virgil’s silhouette almost perfectly. He was laughing, too. That aching sort of laughter, the kind that bubbles out of you and is so… free. Happy. Content.

Roman wishes under the apple tree for this perfect moment to stay this way forever. For him to never forget how Virgil sounds, as the wind brushes through their hair and carries their laughter for miles.

They kissed beneath the apple tree again, too, full of knowledge and freedom and possibility. They were older and wiser and Roman would sing to the wind a lullaby, and Virgil would softly smile. They would sit and watch the sunset and Virgil was an ever present beauty in a world that just seemed so grey. His grin gives him light - his lips give him hope.

It happens suddenly. Or maybe it was only sudden because Roman had never paid much attention to subtext. But the next time he waits by the apple tree, he stares at the red-rimmed horizon, and he thinks of Virgil’s eyes. Soft, full of wonder and wishes and tired eyes and lonely nights. He tries - tries to hear his laughter in the wind - as if the wind could carry back that moment from years ago. But it never would. The wind is cruel, like that.

He remembered once, by the tree, when he carved their names inside a childish heart. He promised marriage in the way children do. He wonders, now, what that future would have been like. A bouquet of roses, a ring, and Virgil - he would be laughing.

And so he lays a rose at the apple tree, and kisses the sun goodbye.


End file.
